


Angel of Truth

by Beetle Brownleaf (monsterlover)



Category: Final Fantasy XIV, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: AU, Explicit Consent, Major SHB spoilers, Multi, OT3, Spooktober, crossover AU, i got so carried away with this, phantom AU, shb spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 15:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20932484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsterlover/pseuds/Beetle%20Brownleaf
Summary: Okay so a small note about this Phantom AU... I have gotten completely carried away with this and now I’m just establishing it as a official AU that I will update regularly. This one is just too much fun not to continue. Also I get to do things ALW never did, such as 1) have everything Not be terrible and 2) ship our lovely protagonist with both the Phantom and the Viscount simultaneously. Also for the Ao3-only crowd, Beetle is a Lalafell and you can find her on tumblr @beetlebrownleaf.some additional notes:- I altered a few lyrics to a couple of songs to fit the theme better, some borrowed from other versions (theatrical, cinematic, etc.)- This is an AU and I don’t actually ship Beetle with Emet-Selch within her “true” canon. This is just for fun.





	Angel of Truth

The young, talented Beetle Brownleaf had been content to be a dancer in the opera house for years. Yes, she could sing, and wonderfully so, but her ambitions were not set so highly, instead preferring to shrink away from the spotlight. The life of the beloved diva was simply not for her. 

Or so she had thought.

In a strange series of mysterious circumstances (chiefly, the house’s only diva throwing a discontented fit and leaving at the last minute), she had now been thrust onto the stage, singing an aria beautifully.

Singing had always brought her the greatest of joys; the thrill of her voice echoing throughout the theater had no parallel.

_ Remember me, remember me fondly, once we've said goodbye - remember me, every so often, please promise me you'll try_

_ ...when you find, that once again you long to take your heart back and be free - if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me._

The crowd watched with wonder, so lovely was her voice, so beautiful did she look in her sparkling white gown, her hair filled with small white flowers to match, like little stars.

_ ...we never said our love was evergreen, or as unchanging as the sea - but if you can still remember, stop and think of me._

She opened her arms as the song shifted to the bridge.

_ ...remember me in autumn, when the leaves fall down - don't think about the things we can't have now... _

In one of the balcony boxes, a man gazed at her, yellow eyes transfixed.

"Beetle," he muttered to himself, "...after all these years… could it be thee?"

In the darkened box opposite, however, another set of golden eyes watched… watched and waited, with a beating heart.

_ ...remember me, remember me waking, smiling by your side - remember me, how often my feelings I did try to hide… _

_ ...remember me, look back on all those times, remember how I did love you - there will never be a time when I can't remember you! _

The audience cheered, no one more happily than the silver haired man in the box room. The figure in the other box simply watched on, sighing wistfully.

Her white dress swirled around her feet as she turned slowly, preparing for the final line.

_ Remember me, please keep me in your mind, remember you belong to me - please do promise me that often, you will re… _

She expertly riffed off the next syllable, exquisitely climbing up nearly the entire scale, then descending back down it again, until she sang out the rest of the word beautifully, ending in a strong, high note that rang out into the air like an angel's call.

_ ...mem-ber me! _

By the time she finished, the figure in the dark box had vanished, as had the man in the one opposite.

Neither could wait any longer.

* * *

Beetle sat in her new personal room, marvelling at how spacious and beautiful it was, not to mention the many bouquets she had been gifted from new fans.

But one thing stood out on her vanity: a black rose, with brilliant red ribbon tied around it, and a small note. She unfolded it and softly gasped at its words:

_ You sang beautifully, my protege. I would come forth from the shadows for you tonight. - Your Angel _

Her heart quickened, and she jumped at the sound of a knock at her door.

"Bee- Miss Brownleaf? Might I come in?" 

Her heart raced as she recognized the voice, suddenly forgetting the rose from her patron.

"Yes, yes, come right in, tis unlocked!" she said.

The door swung open, and there he was: Urianger, her dearest friend and childhood love.

"Little Beetle," he recited, "Her mind, how it wanders. Across crashing waves and rolling hills, within the forest and deep into the sea. Where one might simply see, she perceives. Faeries and spirits and nymphs alike; dancing endlessly on the portals of her mind. Little Beetle - if only I could see as she."

Beetle giggled.

"Those days spent on the shore, while Da told us pirate stories,” she said, wistfully, as he knelt before her.

“And the nights, whilst we read faerie tales, and thou wouldst sing along to the music box… yes. I remember every moment spent with thee, dearest Beetle,” he said, kissing her hand, “I remember all but throwing myself into the sea, to claim thy lost scarf, carried off by the wind. How dear it looked, wrapped around thy pretty neck… I simply could not allow it to be lost to thee.”

He gazed at her with warm affection.

“Much as I had believed thee lost to me. Imagine mine elation, when I hath discovered that thou wert the angel singing so beautifully upon the stage before me,” he said, “Pray, wouldst thou allow me to take thee to dinner?”

Beetle’s smile faltered, and she remembered the note on her vanity.

"Sadly, I must decline," she said, "It is late, and… I require rest.”

Urianger swallowed, looking downward.

“Another time, then, my dear?” he asked softly.

Beetle’s smile returned to her.

“Yes, of course, Urianger,” she said, “Find me tomorrow. I would happily see you then.”

The man rose, leaning close to her.

“It shall be done,” he said, “I do so look forward to speaking with thee again.”

He took her hand in his, placing a lingering kiss on it once more.

“Until then, Beetle,” he said, warmly regarding her before heading out the door.

She held the marked hand to her chest, wrapping her other around it, smiling as she rested her chin upon it. She giggled to herself as she rose from her seat to undress.

* * *

Dusk passed into night, and she sat in her bed, awaiting the promised appearance of her master. She now wore a silken nightgown and robe, and her locks now tumbled down her shoulder in a large plait. She held the rose he had given her in her hand, and untied the ribbon around it, smiling. She tied it at the end of her plait, holding it up as she admired her work.

Then, suddenly, a voice; another familiar one, but different; instead of the gentle, husky rumble of Urianger’s, this voice was musical, so utterly _ rich _ and _ full _ that it did not feel truly of this world.

_ Enjoy your reunion with the boy? _

“I… Angel, have I done wrong?” she asked, voice shaky.

_ You would have, had you left me tonight. But no. You have not. I do not intend to keep you from your friends. _

“As you say, Angel.”

The voice grew softer.

_ Do not tremble so, my little songbird. I am not displeased. Quite the opposite… _

It trailed off, as she heard a distinct click coming from the wall.

_ Look to your reflection, Beetle. You will find me there. _

She rose from her bed, bewildered as a strange light seem to emanate from her mirror.

“My Angel?” she spoke, eyes wide with wonder.

A figure slowly appeared from behind the mirror, and the light formed into a cluster of smaller lights - a candelabra. 

She walked towards the figure, adoringly transfixed. She reached for his black-gloved hand, and he picked her up, taking her away in his arm.

"Sing your song for me, Beetle. You know it in your heart_ . _"

As she looked upon the red mask which covered the right side of his face, peering from beneath his hood, she realized he was right - she did know it. It came forth from her throat without effort, without thought.

_ Down deep within my dreams, I know you're there. You're with me on the stage - you're everywhere. _

_ And do I dream again? For now I find - my phantom of the opera is here - inside my mind. _

They descended down a staircase, down further still to a place completely unknown to Beetle. A dark, deep place with sconces and statues all around, and a boat waiting for them, floating on a body of water. It was as if she had entered the underworld, and before her, the river Styx. He helped her onto it, his dark cape flowing behind him as he ferried her away. He sang back to her, his voice awakening a stirring within her.

_ Sing once again with me - our strange duet. My power within you grows stronger yet. _

Transfixed as she was, she could not help but look over shoulder, and watch the world slowly shrink away.

_ And though you turn from me to glance behind… your phantom of the opera is here, inside your mind. _

She gazed in adoration as she spotted a golden eye gazing back at her - hauntingly beautiful, like a lamp post in the evening mist. 

The song returned to her, and she continued it.

_ Within the depths of night, I feel you there. You touch beneath my soul... _

He completed the line.

_ …Our dark affair. _

He glanced at her, and they continued.

_ You'll give your love to me, for love is blind. (My) Your phantom of the opera is there - inside (my) your mind. _

Her lids grew heavy as she remembered all the lurid thoughts and fantasies that came to her in the deepest hours of the night - how she wondered what his touch would feel like, what breathless sounds she might draw from him. Sometimes she found herself disrobing rather playfully in her private moments, wondering if he was watching, _ hoping _ he was. She would never admit to it, nor would she have ever asked him to, for the thrill laid in not knowing.

"Sing, _ my _ angel," he commanded, with a smile.

She obliged right away, a haunting, lyricless aria ringing forth from within her. No words, just pure, unfettered music, from the depths of her soul.

"Yes, yes," he goaded, his voice low with desire, "Sing for me."

She continued, lightheaded as she was. She felt as if she were outside of her body, existing as a force beyond comprehension, and she wondered, was this truly the Underworld? Had she departed and become no more than a soul? True or no, what utter bliss.

Her aria climbed higher, echoing through the air, as he threw his head back, his hood falling away to reveal dark, wine-colored locks.

"Yes, sing for me, my angel!" he cried.

His plea was so utterly sincere, she found the final note coming out more like cry, piercing the night like a knife as they finally stopped.

"_ Yes, _" he hissed, stepping off onto dry ground.

Her chest heaved as she looked upon him, a tall, _ beautiful _ man with a wicked, tantalizing smile. Truly, he must have been an angel… a dark angel of song.

"Beetle," he began, throwing off his cloak to reveal a brilliant, jet black ensemble, "Long have I dreamed of bringing you into my world."

She looked all around her: a vast room, with candles all around, glowing and beautiful. A grand organ was the centerpiece of the room, second only in size to the massive bed on the other side. Scattered around were books of sheet music and trinkets and strange artifacts, and other things one might expect in room, such as a wardrobe and a table and chairs.

She then gazed at him, taking in his form; a streak of white locks falling over his mask, statuesque facial structure, wine colored lips, a brow curled so seductively upwards, framing impossibly deep and bright golden eyes, surrounded by smoky darkness.

"Who are you?" she breathed, reverently.

His eyes darkened.

"You know who I am, little songbird," he said, his voice deliciously sensual, "I am your Angel."

He knelt down, extending a hand, and she took it. He scooped her into his arms, taking her to the bed. He sat her on it, kneeling behind, his legs at her sides. His hand wandered up her stomach, landing just under her bust, and she could not help but sigh as his thumb deftly grazed her ribs, the other hand tilting her head back to expose her ear to his lips as he softly spoke to her.

"When you sing, tis I who guides your voice. Tis my breath within your lungs, my song within your heart," he said, "Ohh, my little songbird. Here where you belong at last."

She was as a ragdoll in his arms, limp and vulnerable, her back flush to his stomach, and it was all she could do to keep from moaning aloud as he ravished her with his voice.

"Now," he said, "Will you allow me to open your eyes? Show you the truth that only the darkness can reveal?"

She trembled as his lips grazed against her ear, and she slowly felt herself becoming more and more absorbed in his words.

"Yes," she breathed, "Show me, my angel."

He untied the strings of her robe with one hand, as he slid it off her shoulder with the other. He planted a small kiss on her cheek, and put his hand on her own, sliding it up to his own face, which she sighed as she touched.

He then pulled her close and pressed his lips to her wanting mouth, holding her tightly to him. She cried out into his own, writhing as his other hand cradled her inner thigh. 

"Oh, yes," she moaned breathlessly.

He laid her down on the sheets, throwing off his coat and descending upon her in an instant, planting kisses all over her body.

"My angel, my angel," she sighed, head spinning from his touch, "My angel of truth."

He paused, looking into her eyes.

"Do you truly desire this?" he asked, almost sadly, "You have but to say the word, and I will cease."

She nodded.

"_Yes _," she answered, "I desire you."

A smile crept up his face, and he snapped his fingers. The lights in the room were instantly extinguished, leaving them in the pitch black night.

"My angel…?" she said, her eyes darting all about.

"I told you," he whispered into her ear, causing her to shudder, "The truth can only thrive in the darkness."

She heard the sounds of rustling fabric, of buttons unsnapping, clothing falling to the floor, and something being set down on a hard surface. She waited, and found herself trembling at his hands sliding beneath her nightgown.

"My songbird," he spoke, quiet and low, "...long have I dreamt of this. But if you wish to stop… I will do so without another word."

His voice faltered at the last words, and she wondered why he seemed so adamant on making sure her desire was genuine. What was he so afraid of?

"I have given you my answer," she said, "And it is yes."

She heard a shuddering sigh, the kind one might make when struggling with tears.

"You have made me happier than you could ever know," he said, slipping her nightgown off. She shivered from the sudden cold as he ran his hands over her.

“I shall keep you warm,” he murmured, lying next to her, “Worry not.”

She reached for him, her hands finding purchase on his face. He winced ever so slightly, and she realized that he was not wearing his mask. She ran her fingers over what felt like smooth, raised marks, and she wondered what it was that he was so keen on hiding. Poor thing, he must have been terribly hurt at some point in his life. Her heart sank, and she leaned over to him. He gasped as she planted gentle kisses on the entirety of what usually lie beneath the mask, trembling, his heart beating wildly. Her thumb grazed over his open mouth, which he feverishly kissed. He began to shake in earnest, as tears tumbled down his face, dripping over her hands.

“Poor, wounded Angel of mine,” she whispered, “What shall I do to ease your pain?”

“Touch me,” he begged, “Touch me, my songbird.”

They sighed as their bodies met, melting into each other as lips and hands fumbled over skin.

It was a strange thing, to make love in the dark, but a thrilling thing as well - every sensation heightened, not to mention the _ sounds _; every single kiss and breath and moan of theirs echoing and combining, every laugh they made from their trembling, nervous touches saturating the air. 

“Beetle, Beetle,” he moaned, as their bodies moved as one.

“Give me a name to call out to,” she breathlessly asked.

He stopped for a moment, his swallow nearly audible.

“You already know who I am,” he said, “I am your Angel.”

She whined softly in protest.

“I want to know your _ name, _” she insisted, “Give me your name, please.”

He hesitated, then gave a very small _ very well, then. _ He leaned close down to her ear, his next words quiet and slow as death:

“Hades. My name… is Hades,” he said, voice trembling.

“Hades,” she repeated, the word tumbling out of her mouth tenderly, “Oh, yes, my Angel, what a wonderful name.”

He continued, cupping her head in his hands.

“There you have it,” he said gently, “Use it, then. Call out to me.”

His lips ghosted above hers, and she whispered into them.

“Hades,” she said, “Hades, my angel. Impart to me your truth.”

“Ohh, yes,” he replied, “All you have is but to give yourself to me.”

His lips met hers in a bruising kiss, slow and languid it was, as she relaxed completely into his touch, moaning as he whispered into her mouth.

“Feel me, my songbird. Feel me.”

And in the darkness, with no sight to overwhelm the senses, she felt a rapturous thing, like being submerged in a warm, gently-flowing river. Her body felt light, as if lifted by it, and her skin prickled as if awash in cool breeze. She cried out his name, though distant it sounded. She felt an odd yet familiar instinct she couldn’t describe, but she acted on it all the same, and a river of her own mingled with his, and soon their meeting was not only one of body, but of souls.

“Yes, yes,” he sighed blissfully, “This is the truth I bring. This is my gift to you, my muse, my _ love _.”

"Hades… my Angel," she answered him.  
  
He took one of her hands in his, lavishing it with kisses, as body and soul intertwined.

* * *

The next morning, or at least what she guessed was morning, no light shone but a very few candles. She sat up, her robe draped over her, and he clad in his opened breeches and loosened shirt. He laid next to her on his back, his mask now returned to his face. How beautiful he looked, peaceful and dreaming. His brows, still quite naturally bent, framed dark lashes, resting over sharp, broad cheeks. She watched the way his exposed chest rose and fell, and her eyes ran back up to his lips, perfect, full and flushed. The peaks of his top lip were so perfect, so tempting, that she could not help but climb over to kiss them…

But she did not. Her eyes ran over his mask, and she wondered…

Her fingers gently, oh so gently lifted it up, and she held her breath as it silently fell away.

Her face twisted in silent, horrified shock, as she looked over what looked like raised, white burn scars, shaped in some kind of strange symbol… but an incomplete one. As if only part of his face had been branded. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she caressed the skin gently, running her fingers over it.

Suddenly, he stirred, and she froze as she watched him awaken.

He gave her a sleepy smile, then gasped, wide-eyed, as he realized his mask was off. He rose quickly, violently, turning away from her.

_ "No!" _ he screamed, “No, no, no! _ You were not supposed to see… _”

She sat up, a fearful look in her eyes. He panicked, rocking back and forth as he angrily cried into his hands.

"Hades, she said, tentatively reaching for him, "I don't care if you are marred. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… I-I just wanted to touch you…"

He turned to her, hand over his face.

"You're damned right, you shouldn't have," he hissed, "You little _ viper. _"

She burst into tears at his remark, and he instantly melted, reaching for her.

"Oh no, no, my love," he said, "Forgive me. I did not mean it."

“Please, please do not cry,” he said, taking her into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head.

He took in a ragged breath, sighing as his jaw clenched.

“I would reveal you the nature of my scars… but, not today. Tonight,” he said, “Now, I must return you to the opera. You have… a date, no?”

Beetle gasped. 

“Oh! Urianger! I had nearly forgotten,” she said, glancing back at him.

“You are… not angry with me, are you?” she said.

He shook his head.

“No. I have told you, I have no wish to keep you from friends,” he said, “Do promise me, however… you will not forget about your Angel.”

Beetle smiled.

“Of course not,” she said, “_ Never. _”


End file.
